So Said They have finally released their EP!  It’s an intense 6 song release that gives the listener a teaser of their No-Wave/No-Bullspittle live act.  Dissonance and distortion dominate the instrumentation, while the vocals are yelled, howled, crooned, mumbled and vibrated in a sea of trap set acrobatics. 

“All The Rage” starts the disc out on a mid-tempo raucous.  Singer Iris Montes’ voice has been compared to Sleater-Kinney’s Corin Tucker, but ya know what? I think she’s more like a female Ian Curtis.  But maybe this is because I heard So Said They for the first time at one of their live gigs, where Montes moaned in a way not too different from our favorite Manchester epileptic. 

On the track “The Final Chapter” Keith Whiteman’s rhythm guitar sounds like a bass jumping between hypnotism and hyperactivity.  The lead guitar stabs its serrated edge between the bobbing of the rhythm guitar and kick drum, creating an almost stroke-inducing symptom when heard on headphones.  And let me add that Aaron Hoff sounds like he’s pummeling those drums like a caffeinated baboon, knocking out amphetamine rhythms with primative power.

“Tuesday at Al’s” has all the Albini ire with moments of Thurston Moore monotone in Whiteman’s voice (ah, remember when Sonic Youth put out good albums?). Phrases like “You can’t make me take the medicine when I’m outside” or “He said he takes care of an old lady” screamed out all big-n-black, are drilled into your ears while a surly guitar line drunkenly swaggers and plops down on a barstool next to a twisted keyboard part.  In other words, the MUSIC even sounds like a Tuesday night at some dive bar.  You know, a place where hacked-off, elderly barflies shout shit at each other causing the hipsters in the joint to scamper towards the exit door?  I love those kind of places!

“City of Sleep” is the first song off their EP that caught my attention.  Even though this is mostly instrumental, you can hear an incredibly beautiful, distant vocal track that’ll make you boo-hoo-hoo.  It’s that purrrrty.  It’s like a ghost shouting in a cellar, but the shrieks are muffled by a big oak door.  You have to actively filter out the sheets of guitar noise just to hear those fragile, far-away cries.

So Said They’s live performance is stronger than this EP, but that’s not a bad thing now is it?  Their sound from the amplified stage is abrasive and raw, and that’s why I like them.  Also, they pull off a great cover of Helium’s “Pat’s Trick.”  What more could you want? If you hear So Said They in a club, their music will convince you to go out and buy their album.

Their debut EP is available on their website www.sosaidthey.com or at their gigs.

Title:  EP

Label: Self-Released

The Old Haunts capture the disconnected spirit of post-urban unincorporated sprawl with a mix of cascading guitars, fuzzed out bass and urgent vocals. The Olympia band is often labeled swamp-rock, but I hear something more at home a few miles off I-5 in Nowhere-Northwest. The band navigates through unusual, not-for-radio song structures as guitarist/vocalist Craig Extine looks out at the world from distance, prodding and judging the those around him, hashing out a confused past, dreaming of victories and violence. Yet he’s always a few steps from actually jumping into the fray, and one gets the feeling that, in the endm, the songs themselves are action enough for him.

The song “Wasted Day” falls in the middle of the album and contains the most compelling elements of whole the recording. It starts with Extine’s almost delicate plucked guitar echoing out on its own, with the Scott Seckington’s bass and Curtis James’ drums joining in soon after, determinedly urging the song along. The remainder of the first half of the song explores the fairly philosophical territory of the singer’s desire to live in the world of night and dream, the tension between dream and wakefulness, what matters and what exists – “there is nothing that I could see that I can’t already see in my sleep … the haze is worse than the curse of clarity.” Mid way through the song, the verbal exploration ends and, after a pause, the band starts in on a beautiful instrumental section. It’s as if frustrated with trying to use words to explain himself, Extine lets the instruments do the work. A piano joins in to round out the meditation.

It’s refreshing to hear music that aspires to be important but is so lacking in pretense. While the songs are full of internal ruminations, they are not sentimental or self indulgent. The guitar playing is remarkable – despite being reminiscent of other players and styles (Television meets Link Wray comes to mind), it is truly original. Where the guitar carves out sharp, thin lines, the bass uses a broad messy brush to set down rhythmic frameworks and distorted counter melodies. The drums drive the songs’ dynamics and stick to spare beats.

During my first listen, despite being attracted to the overall sound, I thought the album a bit one-dimensional – the instrumentation, aside from the occasional piano overdub, is consistent, and the palette of guitar, bass and vocal stylings is relatively limited. Song forms are generally all of a piece and there are none of those catchy choruses repeating the song title that make distinguishing songs so easy. The more I listened, the more the individual songs came into focus and the depth of the record became apparent. These are songs to live with for a while, that decide to get to know you as much as you decide to understand them. This recording captures a band exactly as it is hitting its stride – I look forward to seeing them perform these songs, though I have a hunch how it will sound.

The Old Haunts play at the Comet Tavern, Saturday, July 22.

R. B. Reed

Outsider Ballads

Beep Repaired Records

“Today’s sweet embrace is tomorrow’s strangle hold.” R. B. Reed

R. B. Reed’s album Outsider Ballads is the perfect soundtrack to the 1955 film The Night of the Hunter. It’s stark, creepy, beautiful and existential all wrapped up into a 36 minute CD. Reed is a singer/songwriter, but don’t misinterpret him as some neo-hippie in a coffee shop whose rants are backed by three chords and the truth. Instead, we hear a rich baritone voice crooning about topics ranging from murder to love. In other words, the songs on this album reveal an attractive voice singing about ugly topics.

Outsider Ballads was recorded in a day with Beep Repaired founding father Olie Eshleman at the helm, twiddling the knobs and adjusting the microphones. The CD sounds very personal and live. It’s like sitting in someone’s attic and listening to your favorite record. There’s a warmth and intimacy on this album that usually gets lost when recording to CD.

The strongest cut on this album is “Not Your Average John.” Taken from the pages of true crime, this song is about the double life of a door-to-door salesman who kills prostitutes in his off time. Reed’s vocals on this song go from murmur to wail, climaxing just before he sings about the last killing. In this last verse he set up the murder scenario like this: “Left hand wears a wedding band/But the right holds a kitchen knife/He’s going to steal your life from you.” The killer’s final victim is his own suspecting wife. As far as murder ballads go, “Average John” is just as terrifying as the traditional tune “Stagger Lee.”

Some of these lyrics scare the bejeezus outta me, while others are more humorous and clever. Take the lyrics from the final track, “Black.” R. B. compares all the types of people that wear black clothing. Rock and roll legends, Satanist, FBI agents, Goth kids, and Dungeons and Dragons gamers are all fodder for the lyrics of this song. In one example, the description of the Goth club music as “the soundtrack to the mating dance of vampire bats” makes me howl. And in the case of the D & D gamers, Reed bemoans that his favorite color is ruined by these trench coat wearing, twenty-sided die rolling tools.

By using humor, R. B. Reed makes the darker, morose lyrics more palpable and, in some cases, more poignant. In a song like “Taxidermied Love” the imagery of the singer being stuffed with treated cotton and kept by his ex-lover is both macabre and absurd. Just reading these words tells the whole story: “I could have been your only pet/If I survived the vivisect/for me at least you chose the most flattering pose/To seal our taxidermied love.” Once again, Reed executes gloomy lyrics with entertaining rhymes and imagery. And this juxtaposition hits you like a dry whiskey in a broken glass, in the parlance of Philip Marlowe.

This is an intelligent record. R.B. is not afraid to use fifty cent words like “corporeal” or “bourgeois.” So, if you’ve been looking for an album that reads like a hard boiled novel, this album is well worth your 7 dollars! You can buy this album from the Beep Repaired Records web page. Go to www.beeprepaired.com and get one of the 500 limited edition CDs with handmade packaging! Outsider Ballads bridges the gap between the pulp fiction of Raymond Chandler and the acoustic Goth of Leonard Cohen. These are songs to hang yourself to!